


The Morning Run

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, Language, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Angel Castiel reminds John Winchester that Dean has a destiny. This was my response to "In the Beginning" when John and Dean meet in the past. Co-author: Sabine_X</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning Run

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Winchesters or Supernatural. The CW and Kripke own Supernatural.

 

Its voice seems to slither in the smoke filled room, a hiss against John’s ear, as talons snake up his tired, sullen shoulders. But John has been through this before and the voice is only in his head, like a bad, embarrassing, memory that brings angry pride to the surface.

“Wake him,” Castiel says, his voice is calming, yet empty, and it’s still a command.

“He’s just a boy,” John says, his voice sways with beer and Jack Daniel’s. “He’s not a toy you can play with, he’s my son.”

John can feel the heat of its body against his head. John snickers, the alcohol gurgles in his stomach; he feels the mix of peanuts and alcohol threatening to spill from his mouth and onto the worn carpet.

“It’s morning. He needs to be up. Now, while he’s still tired.”

“You’re a dick, you know that?

“Yes, John. I’ve heard that before.” The angel leans into John, a suffocating weight against John's sagging shoulders.

“He’s a human with a destiny far greater than your own.”

John laughs. “I know.” He staggers while his hand refuses to touch Dean. John pulls and tugs on the blanket, shaking it, until the sleeping form turns towards him. “Up. Dean. It’s time for your morning run.”

“What time is it?”

John clears his throat, thick with the tightness of a pack of Camels. “It’s five o’clock.”

“Um…okay,” Dean says. And he’s up, scooting himself out of bed in only his t-shirt and jockeys, rubbing his hand against his eyes, popping his back muscles, and muttering about the roosters not being up yet. Dean heads to the bathroom and closes the door. “Ow.” Dean yelps. John hears his son click on the bathroom light.

“I hate you,” John whispers.

“Remember John…I know you remember him in the diner, the leather jacket, the chiseled demeanor…the hunter. That is what you raised. You raised a warrior.” Castiel murmurs into John’s head, sibilant and slow.

“He’s eight. God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

Castiel slides into a dark pocket in the room, his wings unfurling to their natural height. Like smoke in the air, the angel is more like shadow, folding light, to create its shape.

“Dean Winchester,” it begins as if it were telling a story, his voice almost a song in John’s head. “Dean Winchester will be alone when he makes his first major kill. He will stand uncomforted, shaking, scared, and crying out for help. No help will arrive. He’ll be scarred emotionally and physically. He’ll never forget this particular moment, nor will he forgive himself. But he will succeed. That is his destiny. That we know. It’s your job to prepare him for that.”

“I still hate you,” John says. He blinks and before he opens his eyes, he knows that he’s alone, in his motel room, with just Sam and Dean.

Five minutes later Dean emerges from the bathroom, steam following him out, light beaming down on him, showing off his red cheeks.

“I’m ready,” Dean says.

John stares at Dean’s agile limbs, soft jaw line, and dimpled smile, so different from the man in the diner so many years ago. John turns away to take a deep breath. Once a Marine, always a Marine. John Winchester knows how to turn a boy into a man. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

end

 

 

 

~NR


End file.
